


Nyaster Plan

by Mishiman



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Anal Play, Crossdressing, M/M, Sex Toys, Threesome - M/M/M, dumbasses on parade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 01:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20055652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishiman/pseuds/Mishiman
Summary: Operation Maidwatch didn't go so well, but this time Akira's got it all figured out.





	Nyaster Plan

**Author's Note:**

> I have more serious wips languishing but sometimes you just have to write some dumb porn to get back into the swing of things

It wasn’t the biggest balcony, and the way Mishima was standing, with his arms sticking out so he could cover his face with both hands, didn’t leave a whole lot of space either. “Shove over!” Ryuji said. A little too loud, judging by the way Kawakami’s head swivelled in their direction.

“Shut _ up,” _ Mishima groaned from behind his hands. “Shut up, shut up, _ shut up - “ _

“You’re bein’ louder ‘n me!”

_ “Shhh!” _

They both shut up, though Ryuji threw him an elbow just to get the last word in. The two of them froze in place, straining their ears to hear through the sliding door, but it was no use. All they could hear was mumbling. Kawakami and Akira lowered their voices, then spent a tense couple of minutes talking like that. Negotiating? It was hard to see between the living room blinds, but it almost looked like they were striking a deal or something. Weird. Whatever it had been about, it ended, just like that, and Kawakami spun on her heel and left.

Ryuji flung open the sliding door and stomped back inside. “The fuck was that?”

Mishima stumbled in too, a step behind him, still pissing and moaning from behind his hands. His voice came out muffled. “We got _ caught! _ Are you seriously - Kurusu, how could you just talk to her like that?! We got caught and we didn’t even get to _ do _anything!” 

He grabbed one of Mishima’s arms and Akira took the other, forcing Mishima to stop covering his face and pay attention. “It’s cool,” Akira told him. “We talked it out.”

Mishima’s mouth dropped open, horrified, and secretly, Ryuji agreed with him. Sometimes Akira was a little too chill about things. “Kurusu, I sit right in front of her in class,” Mishima wailed. “She said my _ name. _ She knew I was here! She’s gonna - “

Sure, it was bad, but on the other hand, there was no sense having a heart attack over something you couldn’t help. “Whatever. It’s worse ‘n that,” Ryuji said.

“Huh?”

He stomped his foot on the floor of the vacant apartment. “This! This’s the perfect place, and it ain’t like it’s gonna be empty forever! We got this whole _ plan _ together and now we can’t even - rrrgh. Fuck.” Uh. That came out sounding kind of literal, considering the reason they’d called the maid service. He covered it up quick, repeating what Mishima’d already said. “I can’t believe we’re gonna get in shit for somethin’ we didn’t even get to do. This _ sucks.” _

“I told you. Nobody’s getting in trouble,” Akira said, but his voice sounded like he was only half there. He pulled the crumpled maid services flyer out of his pocket and studied it, deep in thought.

\--------

AKIRA: You busy after school?

RYUJI: shit

RYUJI: can’t believe you even wanna do anythin after the shitstorm last night

RYUJI: i went home with my tail between my legs

AKIRA: Yeah, and? Did you get expelled? Arrested?

RYUJI: you know i didn’t asshole

RYUJI: fine. i’m free. games at your place or what

AKIRA: We can play Star Forneus anytime. I have something better in mind

\-------------

Akira dragged the whole thing out over the rest of the day, of course, dropping breadcrumbs and half-hints until Ryuji was just about ready to strangle him. He hid his phone under his desk and texted with Akira while his teacher’s back was turned.

AKIRA: Mishima says he’s in

RYUJI: IN WHAT. WHAT.

RYUJI: seriously. fuck. what is this even

RYUJI: and you said this was at my place. don’t just go invitin somebody else all of a sudden

Mishima’d been to his room before, so even though they hadn’t been hanging out all that much in the last year or two, he figured it wasn’t too big a deal if Mishima came too. But it was the principle of the thing.

AKIRA: Well, not so much your place as your apartment complex, I guess

It all clicked.

RYUJI: ohhh fuck

RYUJI: again?? how do you know we’re not gonna get kawakami again?

RYUJI: i’m jumpin off the balcony if we get her again. seriously

AKIRA: If you guys are just gonna hide on the balcony, I’m telling the maid not to bother showing up

His eyes widened. This was something else entirely.

RYUJI: DO YOU KNOW A FUCKIN MAID

Akira had this giant web of scary, shadowy connections. Former yakuza and some politician. A red light bar owner and a shady doctor, the one he bought Metaverse drugs from. Being on speaking terms - _ negotiating _terms - with not only Kawakami but some other maid on top of it didn’t seem farfetched at all.

Some other maid who owed him a favour?

But maybe it wasn’t that. Maybe Ryuji just didn’t know all the rules of this kind of thing. Yesterday Akira’d dialled up the maid place, and they’d sent one, just like that, any old one, like she was a… pizza, or something. It felt sort of scuzzy if you thought of it like that, so he didn’t. Anyway, the maid place had sent her as soon as the call had come in, but maybe there were other ways to do it. Maybe Akira’d gone to a maid cafe and chatted up one of _ those _ kinds of maids. Like maybe he’d arranged it ahead of time, and -

AKIRA: Sort of

RYUJI: but not kawakami. it’s definitely not kawakami. right? 

AKIRA: ;)

Akira sent him a face batting its eyelashes for good measure. Ryuji was about to badger him for more details, but his teacher was glaring at him, so he put his phone away and pretended to pay attention.

\------------------

Ryuji waited by the school gate after the bell and pounced on Mishima the second he spotted his green sneakers. “Yooo, can you believe we get another shot at this thing?” He couldn’t sit still, all amped up with nerves, so he slung his arm around Mishima’s neck and leaned on him until Mishima stumbled and shoved him away again.

“What _ thing? _ I don’t even know what this is that I agreed to.”

Ryuji swung his bag back and forth as they walked to the train station together. “Well. Me neither. I know it’s a maid though.”

“You’re so loud,” Mishima grumbled, looking around for eavesdroppers.

“Aw, don’t pout. I’ll let you go first, even.” He bumped his shoulder into Mishima’s, and this time Mishima just took it.

“That’s not the - I’m not. Pouting. Do you think it’s like that, though?”

“What?”

Mishima was loud himself, now. Whatever. “Is it a one at a time thing? Like, do you think me and Kurusu will just have to wait out in the hallway when it’s your turn? Or is it more like when you’re at the doctor’s office, and you take a number and then go sit down?” He looked real intense, like when he was all fired up about the Phansite. “At the hospital they do the most urgent cases first. Triage. If it’s like that, then whoever’s the most, like, turned on should go first, and - “

“Oh my god, dude, shut _ up,” _he interrupted, laughing. Mishima looked pissed off and flicked his arm as hard as he could, so he did it back, and they went back and forth like that until their train came.

\------------

They had to split up further down the line to catch their separate trains home, so they took their conversation to text instead.

RYUJI: i was thinkin she might just be a maid cafe maid

MISHIMA: Whoa, what? Do they do this kind of thing too?

MISHIMA: I’ve researched maid cafes before. They mostly just draw ketchup hearts.

RYUJI: yeah sure. out in the open. but behind the scenes it’s all hush hush. just like the flyer

RYUJI: the delivery maids ain’t really there for cleanin. i bet maid cafe maids are the same

MISHIMA: I hope we get a nice maid. If she laughed at me I don’t think I could get my money’s worth.

RYUJI: she ain’t gonna laugh. dude. come on

RYUJI: three guys? one maid? she ain’t gonna have any time to laugh

He slid his bag off his shoulder and hooked the straps over his forearm so that it hung at waist level, then snuck a peek at the other people riding the train around him.

RYUJI: i gotta stop thinkin about this rn lol

MISHIMA: Uh. Good point.

MISHIMA: Listen, whatever else happens, we have to do better this time, okay?

RYUJI: a fuckin backrub would be better than last time

MISHIMA: Well, yeah, but I’m talking about Kurusu.

RYUJI: ?

MISHIMA: He was so cool! He stayed behind and took care of everything while we just... ran away.

He didn’t need the reminder. It hadn’t exactly been his finest hour.

RYUJI: yeah n now he’s doin it again, huh. takin care of everything

MISHIMA: So we’re gonna do better this time! Right?

Practically ballsy for scaredycat Mishima. He had to respect it. And it wasn’t like he was just going to leave him hanging.

RYUJI: yeah man. we’re gonna do it right this time

RYUJI: show akira how it’s done

MISHIMA: Don’t forget your money!

RYUJI: yes mom

\----------------

“He sure is taking his time,” Mishima repeated, staring at his phone.

“He’ll be here. Chill.”

Now that they’d already tried and failed to get this going once before, it actually seemed a little less scary and a little more exciting. What was the worst that could happen? They wouldn’t get Kawakami again. The universe couldn’t be _ that _cruel. Really, there was no way things could go any shittier than they had last time, so it had to be all cake from here.

So just how good could things go?

Ryuji jingled his housekeys in one pocket and the vacant apartment’s key in the other, scrunching up his toes in his socks on the tatami mat floor and shifting his weight from side to side. He could let himself think about it now, right? He’d put himself off all day long, ever since Akira had started teasing and hinting and sending him freaking winks and kissyface emoji in their chat. 

“Kawakami had the dress ’n everythin’, huh?” he asked abruptly. “The maid dress.”

“Uh. Yeah,” Mishima agreed cautiously, finally looking up from his phone. “The apron, or whatever.”

“It was longer ‘n I thought it’d be.”

“The skirt part? I guess.”

“I guess it don’t really matter how short it is. You could still - like, as long as it’s a dress, you could still just… “

Mishima wrinkled his nose but managed to look interested at the same time. “I don’t wanna think of _ Kawakami _like that.”

Certain things were starting to wake up. Certain things were starting to get real impatient for Akira to get here with their maid, in fact. He adjusted himself through his pocket before he remembered how that would look and turned away to face the wall.

“Besides,” Mishima went on. “I hate to break it to you, but maids don’t do that anyway.”

He’d already forgotten about being embarrassed and wheeled around again. “Oh, like you’re the expert.”

Mishima looked stubborn. “I’m not. But I know enough to know they don’t do - that. It’s illegal.”

They’d already tried to order a maid and had gotten one of their _ teachers. _Whether it was illegal or not seemed like such a dumb thing to worry about at this point that he burst out laughing. “Uh huh. I’m sure she’s gonna be haulin’ around a broom. A fuckin’... mop ‘n bucket.”

Mishima was such a nerd. “She’s not gonna be here to _ clean. _But she can’t go as far as you’re thinking. It’s just gonna be - “ He trailed off, his face turning red as he finally seemed to realize what he’d been about to say, and settled for making a hasty jerk off motion in the air in front of him.

“Hey, that’s good too, right? I never had that from - from anybody.”

Uh. Maybe that was getting a little too personal, even for this kind of situation. Whatever you called this. But Mishima gave him a big goofy grin of relief, his face still red. “Yeah. Same.”

If he was going to be this late, then Ryuji decided that talking shit behind his back was what Akira deserved. “Think he’s got us both beat.”

“What, his experience?”

“Yeah. He’s always - “

They were interrupted by a soft knock at the door, but when Mishima cleared his throat and called out “Kurusu?,” sounding nervous as hell, there was no answer. Just two more knocks, even quieter.

_ “Shit, it’s her - “ _

“Answer the door!” Mishima hissed.

“Why me?!”

“Come on, we said we were gonna do better this time - “

“So how come _ we _ means _ me - _“

The maid got tired of waiting and waltzed right in, closing the door behind her, and Mishima took a big step back, leaving Ryuji standing there front and centre.

It was on him, then. “H-hi,” he said, his voice breaking. “I guess our - our clock’s tickin’, right? What, uh, what do we do?”

They hadn’t even paid her yet, though. He fiddled with his wallet, fat with cash, then looked at the maid again, trying to figure out how to start. 

She was… shy? Or putting on a shy act, at least. Maybe most customers preferred that. Even after she’d taken off her shoes and set her bag down, she kept her face turned away and downwards, hiding behind her long straight hair like she couldn’t bear to look them in the eye. After a few seconds, though, she did bow, clasping her hands in front of her while she did.

Why didn’t she say hi back? Or answer his question? There was something weird about her. Maybe Akira had gotten a deal on a newbie maid, one who wasn’t very good at her job yet. Ryuji kind of liked that idea, actually. He definitely didn’t know what he was doing, so if she didn’t know either, then they’d be even.

He took a few seconds to check her out. She was dressed close to the way Kawakami had been - black and white outfit, frilly skirt, white stockings - but it wasn’t exactly the same. More bows, maybe, and the doily thing on her head looked different too. Black cat ears attached to a lacey headband, this time. Why did maids always have some kind of funny little hat like that? This maid had a matching cat tail, too, and poofier sleeves, sticking way out to either side -

Mishima gasped, loud. Then he darted forward and shoved the maid with both hands, hard enough to make her stumble backwards a step or two.

It felt like his eyes were bugging out. “Dude, what is _ wrong _ with you?!”

The impact had been enough to mess up the maid’s hair, so she lifted her chin and delicately brushed a strand of it away from her glossy lips.

Now he saw what Mishima saw. “You _ asshole - ” _But he started laughing, and heard Mishima join in a few seconds later.

The jig was up. Akira winked at them, then destroyed the last of the illusion by spreading his feet apart and standing the way any guy he knew would. No more chaste maid.

“Had you fooled, right?” Akira said. If recognizing his face and the way he stood hadn’t been enough, hearing his voice would’ve done it. It was definitely Akira.

They circled him, scoping out every last inch. “You seriously did, man.”

Mishima plucked at the edge of the floofy skirt, lifting it closer and closer to his face to examine it until Akira pulled it back down. “You look _ so _good,” Mishima sighed.

“Right?” Ryuji said. “You really went all out.” He leaned closer, peering at Akira’s pretty face. “You even did that thing. That smoke eye thing.” Akira’s cheeks were all blushed up, and his eyebrows looked different, too, somehow. He didn’t know what either of those things were called, if they had a name, but even he could tell Akira had done a good job.

Akira turned his inner maid back on like he’d flipped a switch. “Anything for my Master! Nyah,” he added quickly, raising his hand like a paw.

It was weird but appealing, seeing Akira like this. Hearing Akira like this, too, his voice coming out sounding the same as always - or almost the same as always. It was just as deep but sounded sort of flirty. Something about how Akira looked made Ryuji want to keep touching him, even, like he had to make sure it was real. “So I guess this is a wig,” he said, letting the silky hair play over his fingers.

“Yup,” Akira agreed, absentmindedly taking the hem of his skirt away from Mishima again.

“And you’ve got the whole thing on. The apron. The dress. Man, even the stockings, huh?”

“Yeah, they’re - “

“And you got on the _ train _like that,” Mishima said, sounding impressed. “I can’t believe you just… “

It was a little disappointing to hear there’d be no real life maid to take care of him. No cute girl to work him over. Maybe more than a little disappointing, after hyping it up with Mishima for hours. But he couldn’t really be pissed about it. Akira’d put too much work into the joke for him to be mad at him. Never mind the fact that it was always hard for him to be mad at Akira, period.

It did make him start to wonder what kind of lame story he’d have to come up with to excuse himself to a bathroom, though. Even after all the chitchat, he was still halfway there. He winced and tried to tug at the waistband of his jeans in a futile attempt to make himself more comfortable, then snuck a look at Mishima’s situation.

Heh. Rookie mistake. Ryuji had worn his black jeans tonight, but Mishima was in those khakis he usually had on when he was out of uniform. Thin material, light colour. They didn’t hide a whole lot. 

He gave his jeans another yank, then zipped up the bottom few inches of his hoodie for good measure. There. Decent again, though he was going to have to get out of here and do something asap. “You got us, man,” he said, giving Akira one more appreciative once over from top to bottom. “You sure don’t fuck around.”

“Unless that’s what my Master wishes!” Akira said brightly.

“Ha ha. Yeah, we get it.”

“You forgot your nyah,” Mishima added.

“Listen, I gotta head home, though. Seeya tomorrow.” 

The maid bullshit was turned off again, instantly, the second Ryuji took a step toward the front door. “Aw, what?” Akira said, and pouted his gloopy pink lips in a way that should have looked more ridiculous than it did. “You have to go? I thought we were going to hang out for longer than _ that.” _

Mishima was giving him an incredulous look. “Yeah, Sakamoto. Kurusu put so much work into this. You’re really just gonna leave?”

He rolled his eyes. “Dude, there ain’t even any furniture here. What’re we gonna do, stare at the wall?”

Mishima smiled. “I guess we’ve just been staring at the maid instead, so far.” But then he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows at Akira. “Did you just want us to come here so we’d compliment your outfit?” Akira inhaled to answer, but Mishima cut him off again. “Because you deserve it. Want me to take some photos of you? You look great.”

Ryuji kept inching toward the door, looking from his shoes in the entranceway, to Akira, and then back to his shoes, but for some reason it was getting harder and harder to leave the longer he put it off.

Akira started to play with the bangs of the wig in a very Akira sort of gesture, then quickly dropped his hands and put them on his hips instead, a pose that Ryuji always thought of as Ann’s pissed off look. “Go home, then. If you have to,” Akira sighed. “At least Mishima’s down.”

Mishima’s face was getting that panicky look, though. Apparently he was less okay with the idea of being left behind than Akira was. He scowled at Ryuji. “You coward! You said we were gonna do better this time!”

Suddenly it felt like there were a lot of eyes on him. He tugged the hem of his hoodie down further and stuck his hands in its pockets for good measure, pulling the material away from his body as he did. “We did! We did do better! We stayed for longer, ‘n, like, we’re talkin’ to the maid at least, this time, instead of hidin’ out on the balcony - “

His eyes went wide. Akira was grinning at him in a way a maid never would and he grinned back, relieved, finally getting the point of this whole dumb thing. Akira had probably used it as an excuse to play dressup, sure, but he’d also done it to make last night’s disaster less… disastrous. After calling up a maid and getting their freaking _ teacher, _ they’d all gone home feeling like trash, but now that they’d summoned up their courage again and dragged themselves back here, with Akira in this getup, it was a thing they could just bullshit about now. A thing to laugh about.

It felt like there was a little more air in the room. But he still had something urgent to take care of.

“Okay, I’ll come _ back, _alright? Promise. But I gotta - I gotta stop at home for somethin’ real quick. I’ll be like fifteen minutes.” Five or less was closer to the truth, with how pent up he felt, but it never hurt to overestimate.

Akira grabbed his hand with both of his, yanking him back into the centre of the living room. “I don’t think he gets it, Master,” he said, addressing Mishima but looking at Ryuji.

Mishima was all red again, and didn’t seem to want to look him in the eye for some reason.

“What? What don’t I get?”

Mishima stared at his feet, like he couldn’t say it and face him at the same time. “I guess you could just wait in the bathroom until, uh. Until we’re done.” But then he grabbed Akira’s arm and blurted out, “Ohhh, shit, unless I got it wrong too - I just assumed - Kurusu, I - “

This was Akira’s show. You could tell he loved having them wrapped around his finger. “No, Master!” he chirped. “You got it exactly right. I have work to do if I’m to make my masters happy.” Then he sat on the floor, sort of gingerly, and leaned back on his hands, getting rid of the customer service voice so he could grumble instead. “I’m dying, you guys. One of you better pull my tail, like, right _ now.” _

Maybe Akira had more on the itinerary than just getting them to compliment his outfit. This was getting weird. ‘Make his masters happy’ - god, what was this -

Glancing over at Mishima, practically drooling over Akira in his pretty dress, made him feel like he _ had _ to stay, though. What, was he going to slink home and jack off while _ Mishima _ got the real thing? As if he could face them at school in the morning, knowing that he’d turned up his nose at the chance to see how far he could get with a maid. Even if it really was just Akira. And the vacant apartment was so _ perfect - _

His guts were twisted up in knots, but the rest of him had decided.

He was still hard and unhappy about it, but there was something about seeing Akira sitting there in the middle of the floor, his white stockinged legs sticking out from underneath his skirt, that made Ryuji come closer. Mishima did too, and when he knelt on the floor in front of Akira, Ryuji joined him.

Why was Mishima the brave one all of a sudden? Mishima should be halfway down the block by now, or out on the balcony, if last night was any sign. But he was leading the charge. Ryuji steadied himself with a long, slow breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, and stared Akira down, trying to think of something to say.

Mishima was _ still _quicker on his feet than he was. Maybe all that research had helped. “I thought cats didn’t like getting their tails pulled,” he teased, sounding like he was starting to warm up to whatever the hell they were about to get into.

Akira flopped on his back and raised his knees, then stuck his feet into their laps, one each. Not all that carefully, either. “This cat loves it. Nyah,” he deadpanned.

For some reason that set Ryuji off, and laughing at Akira made everything feel better. The maid talk had been weirding him out, that was all. It wasn’t the situation at all. Of course not. He couldn’t see Akira’s face right now with the way he was lying on the floor, but imagining Akira’s face in maid mode was enough to keep him snickering for a minute longer.

“Why’re we pullin’ your tail though?” He leaned forward and gave it the tiniest yank. No dice. It didn’t move an inch. “I don’t wanna wreck your dress, or - or whatever it’s attached to.”

“God, Ryuji, just - just pull it out, okay?” Akira sounded all highstrung, now, for some reason. Tense. “Or Mishima. I mean, please, Masters, please pull my tail.” He flexed his feet for emphasis and narrowly missed giving Ryuji a kick where he didn’t want it, so Ryuji grabbed his silky smooth stockinged foot and trapped it between his knees so it couldn’t come free again.

He couldn’t decide if he should be looking at Akira - up Akira’s _ skirt, _ more accurately, though he couldn’t quite see anything other than the folds of the skirt and legs - or at Mishima, who had a dick. Mishima definitely had a dick and he should probably keep his eyes above the waist or on Akira’s tail, one of the two.

The tail was in Mishima’s hands, in fact, and he was running the last few inches of it through his fingers. “Aw. It’s cute! The tail, I mean. I guess I can take it off for you, though, if it’s that uncomfortable. What is it, velcro?” He pulled, slowly and gently, and Akira let his legs fall open the rest of the way.

The tail was not velcro.

He couldn’t figure out what he was seeing at first. “Dude, what? What?” he breathed, leaning in close to see.

Mishima was right _ there, _too, right by his side and leaning in just as close to see, and their knees were touching while they were both - and Akira was just - fuck, this was weird -

He couldn’t keep it in any longer. “What is up your _ ass, _man?!”

“Looks like... “ Mishima tugged the tail a little harder, and this time Akira sighed as his legs twitched. “A toy. With a tail attached.”

Mishima sounded way too calm about this, and it rankled. “You the fuckin’ expert?” Ryuji snapped.

“What, you don’t have an internet connection?” Mishima asked, and Akira let out a snort from somewhere behind his knees and wadded up skirts that didn’t sound very maidlike. Not very catlike, either.

_ “Yes, _ I got a - “

“Pull. It. Out,” Akira demanded.

He had to move a layer or two of skirts out of the way to see properly, but once he had, he got an eyeful of Akira in the same boat he and Mishima were in. “Yo, panties even? Shit.”

They were tiny and just as fancy as the rest of what Akira had on. White and lacy, too, and doing a pisspoor job of hiding anything, with one of his balls half out and the fabric sheer enough to show what kind of colouring he had down there. “How do you have a tail up in there but panties on too?” he asked, curious. 

“It’s a thong,” Akira said, and now he was really sounding impatient. He grabbed his poofy skirt with both hands and yanked it up the rest of the way himself, hiding his upper half entirely. “There’s ties on the sides. God, why are you making me beg? Mishima, do it already - “

Mishima leaned forward to do as he was told on his side, but Ryuji was damned if he was going to be outdone. They’d said they were going to do better, and that meant both of them. So he got in closer, and. Holy shit. Up close it was -

He reached his hand out without thinking. It was something about the panties, covered in tiny frills and bows and mesh - or maybe it was something about how round and friendly the bulge of Akira’s cock looked underneath it. Not all the way hard, probably, but hard enough that it had to be tucked off to the side to keep it from poking up out of the elastic at the waist. He could see how dark it was through the white material, and he could even tell that Akira had taken care of his pubes before putting on this getup, because there was nothing to interrupt the white and the flushed colour to go with it.

But Akira’d said to pull his tail out, not grab his junk, so Ryuji dropped his hand at the last second and wound up just skimming his knuckles over Akira’s thigh, up where the stockings didn’t reach.

If it was a thong, like he’d said, the tail could probably just come out without taking the panties off. The string part was already off centre, anyway. He nodded at Mishima, who nodded back, and then they each grabbed one of Akira’s legs, holding them apart as Mishima gradually pulled harder and harder on the tail. “It’s really in there - oh, no, wait, here it comes - “

The shuddery sigh Akira let out wasn’t helping Ryuji keep his dignity. Neither was the sight of those fancy white panties getting stretched to within an inch of their life.

Mishima wasn’t looking in the same place he was. “What the - ?” he said, staring at where the toy ended and Akira started.

“What?”

“It felt like it should’ve come out, but it’s still… “ Mishima leaned forward even more, making Akira’s skirts rustle while he got a better look. “Ohhhh, it’s - look, it’s anal beads!”

Ryuji couldn’t tell if his porn education was lacking or if Mishima just watched different stuff than he did. “It’s a what?”

They squeezed in close, hip to hip, and hiked up Akira’s legs even higher until he was more or less sitting in both their laps. Not a peep this time. Ryuji noticed that Akira’s complaints about the tail had stopped, too, now that everyone was paying attention to him.

Mishima took the tail in one hand and pointed with the other, like he was doing a tech demo on Youtube or something. “Okay, see this?” he said, pointing to a sliver of red just barely visible past the fluffy tail. “That’s just the base, so it doesn’t get, like. Sucked in. That’d be bad. You can tell it’s beads because when I do this - “ He pulled on the tail again, just barely, and Akira let out something like a cough and curled his toes. “ - the first one starts to come out, but the rest are still in there.” Mishima hadn’t pulled the tail enough to get the first part all the way out, though, and as Ryuji watched, the round bead, shiny with lube, really did get sucked right back in.

“Yo, lemme try,” he said, and Mishima handed the tail over. 

Slow and steady was how you did it. He tugged on the tail, watching Akira like a hawk, and the edge of the first bead reappeared, round and shiny like a jawbreaker. A little more, a little more…

He balanced it with the perfect amount of pressure, keeping Akira open with the bead while they played tug of war. Akira’s rim looked pink and happy, stretched in a little O around the red toy, and when Ryuji glanced a few inches upward for a status update, he grinned at Mishima. 

Akira’s cock was fighting the panties, pointing straight at the ceiling and straining to get out. Shit, it looked good. The panties were so small that he could see even more underneath them now, stretched out though they were, and he noticed a dark wet spot on the front of them, too.

It was way more fun than he’d have ever imagined. It got to be like a game, a game where he got Akira’s hopes up again and again only to swerve at the last second and keep the beads in. Akira got real fidgety, too, his hips rising and falling as Ryuji teased him, until Mishima helped him out by grabbing both of Akira’s thighs and pressing him down into their laps to make him keep still.

In, out, in, out, sloooow down until he had Akira’s dick twitching again, and then he finally pulled the tail that last little bit more, letting the first bead pop out. Now the part connecting to the next one was just starting to peep out.

“Fuck,” Akira muttered.

“Whoa, what?” Ryuji said.

“Our maid _ swore,” _ Mishima gasped.

“Are they sposed to do that?”

“No way,” Mishima said, trying to keep his voice steady. “That’s bad service.”

“Bet they’d send us a new one if we asked.”

Akira shifted on the floor, and when Ryuji rose up high enough to see over Akira’s knees, he could see that he’d covered his face with both hands. “You guys are driving me _ insane.” _

Ryuji started laughing before he could get the words out. “Don’t you mean, you guys are d-driving me insane_nyah?” _

“No I fucking _ do not - “ _

Akira’s legs were all over the place now, just seconds away from either kneeing one of them in the face or carrying the rest of Akira away, so Ryuji gave in. “Guess we better stop teasing,” he said to Mishima.

Mishima had this look on his face, keyed up and still a bit embarrassed but like he’d gotten into the idea, too, all sly grin and dopey glances at him out of the corner of his eye, and Ryuji had the sudden urge to get his hands on him, just like the one he’d barely resisted giving into with Akira’s dick a minute ago. He settled for swiping his hand over Mishima’s hair, then grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him in close until their heads knocked together.

“I guess so, yeah,” Mishima agreed, leaning back over to his own side but otherwise not moving away an inch. He didn’t want to leave his front row seat, Ryuji figured. “Panties first, though?”

Akira huffed at the thought of another delay, but it wasn’t a no, either. Ryuji took the left, and Mishima took the right. The ties came undone easily, and the panties fell away all on their own.

They both stared.

“I like the maid we got this time,” Mishima said, turning to him and grinning.

“Yeah. Same.”

“You’d better write a glowing review of my dick when we’re done,” Akira said, but it was just a distraction. He waited until they were busy laughing and then yanked his legs free, planting the ball of his foot squarely in Ryuji’s lap and pressing, pressing, until Ryuji couldn’t decide if it was something he could grow to like or something he needed to get away from. Mishima gasped and tossed his head back, getting the same treatment, until Akira finally took his feet away. Ryuji could think again.

“Tail. _ Now.” _ So much for customer service.

“Our maid’s so bossy,” Ryuji said, but he was already wedging his knee under Akira’s ass so they could lift him up to see better. Mishima lifted the black tail and wound it around his knuckles, taking up the slack, and then pulled, nice and easy.

They both stared, watching Akira’s rim change shape as the beads came out, one after the other, pop pop pop.

The lube made everything so shiny and _ wet. _ Appealing, somehow. Would Akira really mind if he got his fingers in there, too? He wouldn’t just go for it straight away, or anything. That was probably considered rude. But what if he just brushed his thumb up Akira’s leg, towards his ass, and felt him out to see if he liked it -

“Uh.” Mishima held up the toy, keeping the beads from touching the fluffy tail part. “What do you want me to do with this?”

“Throw it anywhere,” Akira said, sounding loose and lazy. “I brought - mnnngh - “ He stretched his legs out, and his cock stretched too, like it was enjoying its freedom. “ - stuff to clean up with, so it doesn’t matter.”

Mishima made a face, but did as he was told, letting the toy clonk to the floor off to the side. 

Akira had gotten his way. His tail was out, and it was all Ryuji could do to keep himself from reaching out and getting his hands on him in any number of places. He hooked his thumbs in his pockets to keep his hands out of trouble, but Mishima was a step ahead of him all over again.

He stared as Mishima wrapped both arms around one of Akira’s stockinged thighs. He hugged it and let the side of his face slide over the smooth material as he closed his eyes, clearly in heaven. “Kurusu, are you happy now?”

“No, Master,” Akira said, but he was barely putting any effort into his maid impression now. He spread his legs wide again, welcoming Mishima in. “I won’t be happy until I can - “

Mishima’d already grabbed him, though, and as he gave his cock a long, slow squeeze, Akira stopped talking entirely.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry to have to cut it here, but it's getting long. I'm thinking this will work out to two or three parts when it's done
> 
> I yell about P5 on twitter here: https://twitter.com/araforreal


End file.
